


food for thought

by plalligator



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Courtship, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Female Character of Color, Food, Male Character of Color, Multi, Polyamory, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, mentions of trauma, sharing meals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plalligator/pseuds/plalligator
Summary: Bobbie Draper, and the process of finding something like a family on Earth.





	food for thought

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a cute fic about cotyar and chrisjen feeding bobbie earth food but then it grew feelings!! oops!!! anyway ive been working on this for way too long so here it is I GUESS
> 
> set in nebulous time post season 2, using mostly tv canon and characterization

One of the first things Bobbie did when they got back to Earth was go visit Cotyar in the hospital. He was in an expensive-looking private ward that had no doubt been arranged by Avasarala, but when she presented her ID the staff waved her in without a second glance. He was lying back in his bed with his eyes closed, but opened them when she came in. He seemed tired but on the mend. There was a large ornamental fruit basket on the bedside table next to him. 

“Draper,” he said. “I was wondering if I’d see you down here.”

“Hey,” she said. “How you holding up?”

“I’ll live,” he said. “Took a couple of pints of blood and they had to regrow some kidney tissue. I’m benched from active duty for at least eight weeks.” 

She whistled, impressed. She’d known on some level that as an ex-forward observer that he would be tough, but the fact that he held the position outnumbered and alone with a gut wound that bad— 

Well. 

“Sounds like it hurts,” she said. 

Cotyar barked out a laugh.

"Not right now it doesn’t, they got me on the good drugs. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt as much as when I blacked out on the Guanshiyin and Madam stuck her hand in my guts to wake me up.”

That sounded like Avasarala. Even a gunshot wound wasn’t a good enough reason to be lazing around when there was work to be done. 

“Why do you work for her?” asked Bobbie, finally giving into curiosity and asking outright. 

Cotyar sighed, pushing air out his nose.

“I wish I could explain it,” he said, sounding frustrated. “We weren’t exactly on good terms after Chandrapal died. But she just has a way of...pulling people into orbit. Even if, between you and me, I could throttle her sometimes. Once she’s got her mind set on something, there’s no changing it.” Bobbie realized that his eyes were half-lidded and glazed, his normal filter worn away with the painkillers. She wondered if she should say anything. 

He gestured with his head to the fruit arrangement on the bedside table. 

“She sent that. I think it was her idea of a joke.” Seeing Bobbie examine it, he made an abortive gesture, slowed by the drugs. “Go on, take some. You deserve it as much as I do, you’re the one who did all the heavy lifting. All I did was get shot.” 

Bobbie selected an orange off the top of the arrangement and turned it over in her hands, feeling the pimply skin and breathing in the bright, sharp scent. 

Cotyar was making a strange wheezing sound, it took her a moment to realize he was laughing. He had a nice smile, one that made his eyes crinkle at the edges. 

“Haven’t you ever eaten an orange before, Red?” he said. “You have to take off the peel.” 

“You’re loopy,” said Bobbie, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She dug her fingernails into the orange peel and felt it give way under her hands. “Some spy you are.” She flicked a piece of peel at him. He gave a grunt of mock pain as if she’d shot him, clutching his side. 

The orange was like a burst of pure Earth sunshine in her mouth. 

::

With Cotyar on medical leave, Avasarala had decided that Bobbie was the best available substitute as bodyguard and had kept her busy. In the absence of anyone to punch, Bobbie didn’t actually have much to do, but basically all of her was spent following Avasarala around. The old lady had a frankly exhausting schedule, going from meeting to meeting and bulldozing her way through the bureaucracy. It made Bobbie tired just thinking about it.

So it was a few days before Bobbie had free time to visit Cotyar again, and even then it was late in the evening. She made her way through the mostly silent corridors, nodding to the few staff she saw. Upon reaching Cotyar’s room, she was about to go in when she realized the door wasn’t quite closed. 

Avasarala was there already, sitting at the side of the bed with her back to the door. She was resting a hand on Cotyar’s forehead. 

Bobbie stopped short, abruptly realizing why Avasarala had ended work early. She knew she was witnessing something private, but somehow was unable to move away. 

"I can't grant you absolution, Cotyar," said Avasarala, voice rougher than normal. "I am not a god." 

Bobbie couldn't tell what he said in response, his voice was too low. 

"Oh, please," Avasarala said in reply. "Spare me the self-pity, it makes you look like an asshole. We are both too old for this. Let the past stay in the past." 

Her voice was tart, but she bent down to plant a kiss on his forehead. 

"Do your best to recover. I'm going to need you again soon," she said, and Bobbie scrambled to get out of the way, managing to be on the other side of the hallway by the time Avasarala opened the door. She cleared her throat and automatically went to parade rest, clasping her hands behind her back. 

Avasarala looked up at her.

“I suppose you heard all that,” Avasarala said. 

Bobbie straightened her shoulders minutely, trying not to squirm, Something that might have been shame burned in the pit of her stomach, and her cheeks felt hot. 

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, staring straight ahead. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

Avasarala sighed. 

“I need a cup of tea,” she said, and beckoned Bobbie to follow her. They were silent all the way back to Avasarala’s office. She switched on the kettle stashed discreetly in the corner and took out two cups. 

“Uh, I don’t need anythin—” Bobbie began.

“Sergeant, unless you want to make me very angry, you’ll shut up and drink your tea.”

Bobbie subsided, perching on the edge of her chair. Avasarala sat back in her chair while the water boiled and closed her eyes. She looked exhausted, with purplish circles beneath her eyes. When the kettle began to whistle she got up and prepared two cups. They sat there with the tea cooling in between them. Avasarala tapped her nails on her desk.

“They don’t understand,” she said finally. “All these fucking idiots,” she waved a hand, apparently encompassing the whole U.N. building, “wedded to nationalism or greed or love of power. We’re staring into the abyss and I feel like I’m the only one who sees it.” 

Her voice was rough, and she scrubbed a hand across her face.

“God damn Cotyar,” she said, low and fervently, and for a moment she turned her face away. There was the telltale gleam of wetness on her cheeks. Bobbie sat paralyzed, burning with embarrassment and staring fixedly out the window. She hadn’t expected such an open show of vulnerability and didn’t know what to do with it. 

“He’ll be fine, ma’am,” she said, speaking to a spot over Avasarala’s shoulder. “I’ve seen soldiers walk away from worse injuries, and he’s tough.” 

Avasarala sighed. 

“Yes,” she said.

Bobbie took a breath and tried again. 

“Ma’am, between me and Cotyar, we can handle anything that’s coming. We’ll do the legwork, all you have to do is point us at it.” 

She had no idea if it was the right thing to say or not, but to her relief, Avasarala took a breath and wiped her eyes. 

“Thank you, Sergeant,” she said. “Drink your tea.” 

Bobbie drank, automatically responding to orders. It was surprisingly good, lighter and more delicate than the strong black coffee she was used to on navy ships, and richly aromatic. Avasarala drank as well and sighed again. She seemed absorbed in her own thoughts, so Bobbie stayed silent and let herself relax a little more into her chair. 

She finished her tea, but Avasarala showed no sign that she noticed. Bobbie waited for a couple minutes. She hadn’t slept well since Ganymede, and yet somehow she was drifting off, lulled by the warm tea and dim lights.

“Ma’am?” she asked finally. “Am I dismissed?”

Avasarala looked up as if she had forgotten Bobbie was there.

“Oh,” she said. “Yes, of course.” 

Bobbie stood and carefully replaced her teacup. Avasarala watched her, and just as Bobbie was about to leave, she spoke.

“You’re not what I had expected.”

Bobbie looked back at her. Brain thick with sleep, she said the first thing that came to mind.

“Neither are you, ma’am.” 

Avasarala smiled wryly. 

“Point taken. Now get some rest.” 

::  
Avasarala didn’t mention that night. However, when Bobbie was next summoned to a meeting several days later, there was a plate of cucumber sandwiches sitting out on the long conference table. 

She was nominally on bodyguard duty still, but the meeting was for a bunch of the Earth brass and hostilities were probably unlikely to break out. Bobbie wasn’t sure exactly what use she was supposed to be but Avasarala must have decided that there was some kind of tactical advantage to her presence, so there she was. 

She stared at the sandwiches again, wondering if they were some kind of joke. Madam still hadn't acknowledged her presence, instead she was greeting the other guests as they entered the room, ready to bully and cajole them into her way of doing things. Maybe Earther high-ups just always ate like this, showing off their access to fresh produce. Bobbie considered, then stuffed a sandwich in her mouth, grabbing two others for later. No sense in letting the Earthers get to them first. 

They were as good as she remembered. 

::

On the rare days Avasarala dismissed her early, there really wasn’t much for Bobbie to do. Back in the marines, she would have trained, or gone out with her team, shooting the shit and drinking. She didn’t have that anymore. 

At a loss, she went to the gym on the ground floor of the UN building and headed back upstairs for a shower, vaguely intending to read some bad novels on her hand terminal before going to bed early. She was just drying her hair when there was a knock at her door. When she got up to open it, Cotyar was there, looking more lucid than the last time she saw him but still with harsh lines of pain in his face.

“You look like shit,” said Bobbie, because it was true. “Should you be out of the hospital?” He grunted. 

“Good to see you too,” he said. “C’mon. You’re coming with me.”

“Why?” asked Bobbie, but closed her door and followed anyway. “Her Majesty want me?”

“No,” he said. “We’re getting dinner.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Because I just got out of the hospital and I want a real meal. Does there need to be a reason?” 

She stopped walking. Cotyar got a few steps ahead before he realized she wasn’t following, and he turned, raising his eyebrows at her. She just folded her arms.

“You saved my life on Mao’s ship,” he said finally. “And, more importantly, the Undersecretary’s life too. A meal is the very least I owe you.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. It hadn’t been what she expected, but she could understand the nature of debts. 

“Okay,” she said finally. “Okay.”

They were mostly silent on the walk to the restaurant. Bobbie was more comfortable under Earth sky then she had been, so she managed the short distance with relative ease. She was still glad when they arrived at the place Cotyar had chosen, which was a dimly lit, low-ceilinged bar. Bobbie looked around as they entered.

“Is this real wood?” she asked. It was either that or a very convincing imitation. Cotyar nodded. 

“Earth’s got it’s perks,” he said. 

Bobbie scoffed.

“Yeah, if you like living soft,” she said, but as they sat down she couldn’t help running her fingers across the smooth, well-worn surface of the table. 

“What do you want?”

Bobbie tilted her head, mock-considering.

“Steak,” she said finally, and smirked. “Medium-rare.”

Cotyar rolled his eyes at her. 

“Hey, Earth’s got it’s perks,” she shot back. “And you’re paying.” 

“Fine,” he said, and ordered for them both. “Two steak dinners, medium rare.” 

“And a beer,” put in Bobbie. He shot her a look. “What?” 

He just shook his head. Whatever. Since this was Earth, they probably had real beer, too. None of the fungal substitute you got out past Mars. 

Bobbie realized as they waited that aside from the hospital, this was the first time they’d had any real interaction that wasn’t related to any system crises. She had absolutely no idea what to talk about. 

She glanced up. Cotyar was looking at her like he was thinking the same thing. He shook his head.

“If you had told me twenty years ago that I’d be working for Chrisjen Avasarala, I’d have called you a liar. If you told me I’d be sitting down to dinner with a Martian marine, I’d have called you delusional.”

Bobbie snorted.

“If you’d told me a year ago I’d be sitting down to dinner with a spy for the Earther government, I’d have kicked your ass for your trouble,” she said bluntly, and Cotyar laughed. 

“Yeah, fair enough.” He surveyed her. “But here we are.” 

“Here we are,” Bobbie echoed. It was a fair summation of her own feelings. Cotyar tapped his fingers on the table, took a sip of his water.

“UN security probably didn’t clear you to use a gun, right?” he said. 

She shook her head. He nodded.

“There’s a range I go to. I can get you cleared there if you want to keep in practice. If you’re there with me it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

Bobbie thought about being offended at the assumption that she’d get rusty that easily, but that was arrogant. The truth was that she probably could use the practice. She hadn’t had much since Ganymede. 

“Thanks,” she said instead. “Yeah, I’d appreciate that.” 

Cotyar shrugged.

“Madam’s going to need someone who can shoot, and I’m still on medical leave for another week or so.” 

Before Bobbie had a chance to answer, the food arrived, and she forgot what she was going to say. The steak looked like something out of a picture; pink and juicy and still steaming. The smell alone was heavenly. There were potatoes, and green beans, and rolls with what looked like real butter. 

Bobbie was willing to forgive Earth a lot for this steak.

She dove in with gusto, and didn’t come up until about halfway through, when she drained half her beer and went back in. When she was done, she cleaned her plate of the pooled steak juices with a leftover piece of roll, popping it in her mouth. 

Cotyar made a sound. She looked up; he was smiling faintly at her. 

“What?” she mumbled, mouth full.

“Don’t they ever feed you on Mars?” he said, highly amused.

She swallowed, didn’t break eye contact, and flipped him off. He laughed, full-throated, wincing a little as the movement pulled at his wound but didn’t break eye contact. 

She realized with a jolt that his gaze held admiration, not assessment, for a change. She wondered if he was working up to hitting on her, but he never did, not through finishing their drinks and heading back. 

The walk back to the UN building was strangely companionable, and the rest of the evening Bobbie spent peacefully in her quarters. But the look in Cotyar’s eyes stayed with her. 

::

A couple days later, Bobbie was just about to go down to the UN cafeteria for dinner when Cotyar stopped her.

“Madam wants you in the other room,” he said, jerking his head towards the door at the back of the office, which Bobbie had always assumed was a private room. He had his coat over his arm. 

“Oh,” she said. “Are you leaving?” 

He nodded.

“I think you can handle things from here,” he said, and winked.

Avasarala was waiting in a private room separate from her usual office. It was a lot more plush than anything Bobbie had seen on Earth so far, with heavy draperies, low couches, and a corner niche. Avasarala was sitting at a small table set for two. 

“Uh,” said Bobbie. “Sorry, ma’am, am I interrupting?” 

She looked up, and gave a brilliant smile. 

“There you are,” she said throatily, rising from her seat like a vision in crimson silk. “Please, sit down.” 

Avasarala had a way of delivering commands in the same tone that Bobbie’s superiors would have used, a tone that cut straight to Bobbie’s hindbrain, and so she was in the seat before she even realized it. There were three different kinds of forks in the table setting.

She squinted suspiciously as Avasarala, who was seating herself again with the grace of a woman half her age. 

“Ma’am, did you need me for something?” 

“No, I just thought it might be nice to talk,” said Avasarala in such a disingenuous tone that just made Bobbie even more suspicious. “We haven’t had much of a chance since the Guanshiyin. I took the liberty of ordering some food—”

As if on cue, the door opened and a man wheeling an honest-to-God silver serving cart came in. 

“Yes, right there, thank you,” said Avasarala. “We’ll serve ourselves.” She turned to Bobbie. “Shrimp cocktail?”

Bobbie’s half-formed protest died in her mouth. As long as she already here…

She ate a shrimp, and then two more, and by then another dish had materialized on the table, and she thought she might as well try that too. Bobbie’s mouth was full when Avasarala spoke again, which was almost certainly on purpose.

“So,” she said. “You may not be a sergeant any longer, but you never said what to call you instead. Roberta?”

Bobbie had to swallow uncomfortably.

“Not Roberta,” she said automatically. Avasarala raised a polite eyebrow. 

“What would you prefer, then?”

“Bobbie…?” she said, the end trailing off into a question.

“Bobbie,” repeated Avasarala, and smiled like a shark. “Wine, Bobbie?”

“Sure,” said Bobbie, feeling like she had been tricked into something but automatically holding out her glass. “You know, if you needed something from me you don’t need to do—” she waved a hand. “All this.” 

“Just a minute,” said Avasarala, holding up a finger. “Come in!”

Another waiter appeared in the doorway, and set yet another dish down on the table. 

“Bobbie, you should try these stuffed dates,” said Avasarala, spooning two onto Bobbie’s plate. “What do you think of the wine?”

“I haven’t tried it yet, ma’am,” said Bobbie, sitting back. Cotyar was right, it was pointless to try and stand in Avasarala’s way when she wanted something. If that something involved plying Bobbie with fancy food and drink, so be it. She took a sip of the wine, feeling faintly ridiculous. Wine was something she was mostly aware of a concept, not as an actuality. It was heavy on her tongue, faintly buttery, but not unpleasant.

“Well?” said Avasarala, smiling.

“It’s good,” said Bobbie, and reached for a stuffed date. 

::

Avasarala was a surprisingly good conversationalist when she wanted to be. She kept up a stream of cheerfully profane anecdotes about her work on Earth, mostly about having to deal with gutless politicians, that had Bobbie snorting into her wine. She asked questions about Mars, mostly about Bobbie’s family and the Mariner Valley. She didn’t mention Ganymede, or Travis. 

It struck Bobbie sometime around her third glass of wine that Avasarala was actually being charming, and more than that, she was being kind. It left her with a strange, lightheaded feeling that she would have put down to drunkenness, except that she was a fucking marine. She didn’t get drunk off three glasses of wine, even good Earth wine. 

By the time the dessert course rolled around, Bobbie was so full she felt like she would have to roll back to her temporary quarters, if she could even stand up. Still, she managed to scrape up the last of whatever delicious melty and oozy chocolate dessert Avasarala had procured. 

Eventually, Avasarala sighed and put her napkin aside.

“Well, I’m sorry to have to cut the evening short,” she said, rising, “but an old lady needs her rest.” 

Bobbie somehow heaved herself to her feet.

“Hey, thanks,” she said. “This was...nice. But seriously, are you sure this isn’t a lead up to asking a favor?” 

Avasarala frowned.

“Bobbie,” she said severely, “if someone does what I tell them to, it is not because I bribed them. It’s because they know just how badly I could fuck their life up if they refuse.” 

“Okay,” said Bobbie. “But the next time you want me to fight my way through a ship of armed private military contractors, some shrimp cocktail wouldn’t go unappreciated.” 

Avasarala threw her head back and laughed. 

“Good night, Bobbie,” she said, and, to Bobbie’s surprise, pulled her head down to plant a kiss on her forehead. “You better not be hungover in the morning.” 

::

Just to prove she could, Bobbie showed up bright and early the next morning with clothes crisp and hair freshly washed. Avasarala was having a strident conversation on her terminal and Cotyar wasn’t in the office. Bobbie was standing by the wall, waiting for Avasarala to finish when he came back in, bearing a tray of cardboard take-out cups. 

He gave her a nod of greeting and handed her one, taking the other for himself. Bobbie took a sip and was surprised to find that it was something creamy and sugary, with the aftertaste of vanilla. Her surprise must have showed on her face. 

"They gave me the wrong order," he said, and shrugged. "So I just took both." 

It was a lie. She felt it like she could feel the cup in her hand. An innocuous lie, but a lie nonetheless.

"Why?" she asked before she thought better of it. "I don't understand. Why are you doing—" she waved the hand without the coffee in it "—this?" Meaning the food, meaning her temporary quarters and her clearance at the shooting range, meaning every effort they'd made to make a disgraced defector comfortable when by all rights she should have been a virtual prisoner. 

Cotyar tensed but stayed silent, glance flicking to Avasarala, who looked up and set down her hand terminal. She surveyed Bobbie for a minute, and Bobbie met her gaze, refusing to look away. 

"I don't suppose you would accept that it's in my interest to keep a valuable asset happy and well-fed," she offered, not even pretending she didn't know what Bobbie was talking about. 

Bobbie considered it. 

"No," she said. "I don't think so." 

"Are you sure?" said Avasarala, raising an eyebrow. "I could be seducing you to the side of Earth permanently. I’ve seen people with stronger morals than you crumple in the face of a fat paycheck and enough food to gorge themselves for the rest of their lives." 

Bobbie almost laughed out loud. 

“With all due respect, ma’am, that’s bullshit.” 

Cotyar coughed and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “told you”. 

“When I want your opinion, Cotyar,” said Avasarala without taking her eyes off Bobbie. “I will ask for it. Until then, kindly shut the fuck up.” She drummed her fingers on her desk.

“Maybe I simply feel you’ve earned it,” she said finally. “That it’s a disgrace the way the Martian navy has treated one of their best soldiers and if they’re so stupid as to let you slip through their fingers, I’m not going to make the same mistake.” Her voice was rising as she spoke and she was half-standing as she finished. “I’m damn well keeping you and the very least I can do is treat you the way you deserve. Believe me, you’re more than worth the effort.” 

Bobbie, lost for words, looked from her to Cotyar.

“Madam and I are in agreement on this one,” he said gently, and set a hand on her shoulder. “You’re our people now, Draper.”

She swallowed past a lump in her throat. To her horror, she was tearing up. Ganymede had unmoored her from everything she’d ever known. She’d thought that she would never belong anywhere ever again.

“You’re my people now too,” she said roughly. 

Avasarala smiled at her, not her shark smile but something pleased and indulgent. 

“I knew that already,” she said somewhat smugly. “I’ve known since you came for us on Mao’s ship.” 

“Yeah, all right,” said Bobbie, and it was true. 

::


End file.
